


tell me, atlas, what is heavier?

by darlingneverland



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, F/M, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change, apprentice au, healthy relationships forged in unhealthy circumstances (clenches fists) my aesthetic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingneverland/pseuds/darlingneverland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the world or its people’s hearts? –  Darshana S </p><p>--</p><p>The Titans had told her that Robin disappeared. The media speculated wildly on his absence, especially in the wake of the new, younger Robin recently seen trailing Batman in Gotham, a clear contrast to the Titans’ Robin’s taller stature. There were no clues, only theories. Last she heard before working for Slade, the most popular one was that the Joker killed him. </p><p>Of course, given her current place of residence she knows that all rumors are false. Robin’s working for Slade, albeit unhappily. She could speculate on the reasons or she could continue on her day, as uninterested in him as he is in her. </p><p> </p><p>------</p><p>even with robin in his grasp, slade's attention turns towards a young geokinetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> A girl falls into an abyss.  
> (This isn’t going to end in a punchline.)  
> A girl falls into an abyss and the devil  
> grabs her feet to pull her down faster.  
> Teaches her to fight and says, this is for you.
> 
> He hands her a knife still wet with blood  
> from her back and says, still for you.  
> Sets her up for murder and says, I did it  
> for you. The devil has a way of dressing lies up  
> so well even queens will die to trust him.
> 
> There’s no part where angels come to save her—  
> nothing winged or arrowed left in this graveyard city.  
> The devil wraps himself around her and says,  
> I am all you have & don’t you want me here?  
> Don’t you need me here?
> 
> At the bottom of an abyss, a girl accepts the devil’s embrace—  
> but she’s weighing that bloodied knife in one thoughtful hand.
> 
> —thea | elisabeth hewer

Training is grueling; hard in ways she didn’t anticipate when she finally accepted Slade’s offer. Every evening, she finds herself back at the tiny infirmary, battered and bruised, with Wintergreen cleaning her wounds and finishing with a pat to her shoulder.

She thinks she should be more embarrassed that most of her injuries are self-inflicted rather than Slade’s doing, but her powers are explosive, untamable. But every piece of debris that cuts her is a step closer to control, a step closer to approval on Slade’s part.

It’s after another evening at the infirmary that she meets Robin. They cross paths in the hallway connecting the infirmary to the main room, both bleeding, bruised. He’s worse for wear than she is by far, with his black and orange costume sliced, blood staining large patches, with a bruise growing from his cheekbone to the line of his jaw.

They regard each other silently, his mouth a thin line, her face open and curious. The Titans mentioned him in passing, almost as if mourning. It’s hard to reconcile this Robin with the green and red version she’s seen in the news.

He leaves before she gets a word in, dragging his feet, holding his bleeding side.

* * *

 

Slade works with her majority of the day. He wakes her up at five in the morning on the dot. In the early days of her apprenticeship, she used to complain about not eating right after waking up. Slade, his single eye crinkled in amusement, prepared her pancakes and eggs one morning and within an hour of concentrated rock slinging and fighting, she puked in the corner of the training room, hands on her knees, hair curtaining her face.

She still complains, but she’s careful not to step on Slade’s toes anymore lest he try to prove a point again.

Today is no different. Slade knocks on her door, five a.m. sharp, and tells her to report to the training in ten minutes. She drags herself out of bed, shivering at the cold air that always seems stale, somehow, dresses, and trudges to the training room.

She steps into the room, scratching at her head, but stops dead in her tracks at the sight of Robin leaning against the wall. He’s staring down at the floor. Slade is staring her down from across the room. She lets her arm drop to her side.

“I assume you two have met,” Slade says.

Robin says nothing. Terra nods.

“I think you’ve reached a point where you can fight without me there every step of the way.” Slade nods towards Robin. He’s still not looking up. “Fight him.”

Robin sighs. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”

Slade tilts his head. Robin looks up and meets his stare.

“Well, it’s just practice, right?” Terra takes a step forward and swings her arms forward. She links her fingers together and cracks them. “Even if you kick my ass, in the end you’re just helping me out. Can’t be any worse than when I practice with Slade.” She grins at Slade. It doesn’t ease the tension in the room. If anything, Robin seems to glower more. She has the faint impression that the expression isn’t an unfamiliar one on his face.

“Fine,” he mutters. He pushes himself off the wall. They meet in the middle of the fighting mat. Robin stands almost utterly still, every line of his body taut. Terra rolls her neck, working out the kinks from falling asleep in a weird position (head practically hanging off the edge of the bed, cheek pressed against her shoulder).

“Don’t use your powers, Terra,” Slade calls out. He stands far away enough from the mat to avoid any possible injury. It’s a smart choice. Terra isn’t the best at staying within the designated area. She’s prone to evasive and defensive moves rather than offensive. It’s easier. She’s tiny enough for it to work for a couple of minutes.

She takes a deep breath and throws the first punch – or rather, tries to fake a punch toward his face while she really goes for his stomach. Robin quickly recognizes what she’s planning and grabs her fist, using her momentum against her to pull her forward and then shove her towards the floor, the same arm now bent and held against her back. Robin’s knee is pressed against the center of her spine. The pressure is enough to keep her on the floor, but not entirely painful.

Two seconds. She barely lasted two seconds.

She grunts.

Slade’s sigh is loud enough to fill the entire room.

“Go again.

* * *

 

She’s pretty sure there’s a large bruise on her cheek from the amount of times Robin face planted her onto the ground. There had been some progress during the last three hours: She managed to land a few hits and kicks, enough that she thinks she might’ve bruised him up a little. She didn’t win at any point, but she hadn’t expected that. She doubts anyone did.

Rubbing at her cheek, she drags her feet down the hall towards the infirmary. Daily routine: Wake up, get ass kicked, crawl to Wintergreen for band aids and validation. It’s not the worst routine, she’s had worse, but it’s been enough time that’s she’s restless. Bored.

Even with Robin’s participation today, it hadn’t been enough variation to change much.

Just as she’s about to turn into the infirmary, a hand grips her shoulder. She tenses, but the hand isn’t large enough to be Slade’s. She shrugs Robin’s hand off and turns to face him, still cradling her red cheek.

His scowl is a permanent fixture on his face, it seems. There hadn’t been anything to suggest that it wouldn’t be there when she turned around, but Terra still finds herself scowling back.

Robin clears his throat. “I just – wanted to say I’m sorry. For being so rough today.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugs. Eyeing the split lip from her last kick, she says, “It helps that I hurt you a bit too. Makes us even, I guess.”

He shrugs.

A beat of silence passes between them. Terra jabs her thumb in the direction of the infirmary behind her.

“Wanna come in with me? You might as well get that cleaned up.”

Robin’s gloved hand comes up. He presses the tips of his fingers against his lower lip and flinches at the pressure. She stays still, eyes lingering on his hand when he pulls it away. A touch of blood smudges the tips of the fingers of his gloves. It seems unnaturally real.

“I’ll be fine.”

“What?”

Robin shrugs. He’s staring down at the floor again. “Get yourself checked out. I’ll see you around.”

“If – If you’re sure.” Her eyebrows draw together. Just as she’s about to say something else, Robin nods and walks around her, continuing down the hall. She turns and watches as he turns the corner into the main room. Only once he’s gone does she enter the infirmary.

* * *

 

Slade is sitting on her bed when she comes back from her shower. He sits on the edge, feet flat on the ground, elbows on his knees. One of her comic books is in his hands. He idly flips a page when she enters the room.

Slade is everywhere. In the training room, the infirmary, the kitchen, the study – everywhere she turns he seems to be there. She’s used to it, almost. Back home – not home, not really, but Markovia, the castle – there had always been someone there when she turned a corner. It was rare to be alone.

It’s rare to be alone again now, but enough time has passed between then and now that she’s the slightest bit unsettled by the constant proximity.

Terra keeps her door open and lingers near her empty desk. The towel turban on her head is heavy now that she’s in Slade’s presence. He eyes it once he looks up from the comic.

“Long shower.”

“I had to wash my hair.” She pats the towel. “It was gross.”

“That’s actually bad for your hair,” he says. She blinks owlishly at him. “It damages it.”

She waves a hand. “I don’t really care. It’s just hair. And I don’t want it all wet and stuff down my back.”

“Hm.” He sets the comic down on her nightstand and gestures for her to take a seat. Once she pulls out her desk chair and sits, he laces his fingers together and stares at her. “Do you remember when I first took you in?”

“You found me in the desert,” she says. She frees her hair from the towel, pulls it over one shoulder, and starts brushing through it with her fingers. “You offered burgers and a free shower.”

He smiles – or rather, his eye crinkles up from what she assumes is a smile.

“I told you that my training comes with a price, child.”

She glances down at her lap. Her fingers snag on a knot in her hair and she carefully works through it.

“I know.” She meets his gaze. “I just…figured you wouldn’t tell me until I was, y’know, actually in control of my powers. And I’m not, by the way. Not at all.” The stitches under her right shirtsleeve itch. She stops herself from scratching at it. Three days after a small crash, boulders exploding upon impact, and her wound doesn’t seem any better.

“Dear girl, I’m aware of that. I’m not going to stop helping you.”

“Then why bring it up?”

Slade sits up straight. Terra releases a breath, shoulders relaxing. Sometimes she doesn’t even realize how tense she becomes under his attention, but there’s always relief once he looks away.

“I’m going to need your help soon. With the Titans.” Slade gauges her furrowed eyebrows, her small frown. “I want intel on them. They would react well to your return.”

She stares at him.

“That’s – That’s not happening.”

Slade stares at her

“I-I can’t go back to them.” Her gaze falls to her feet. The flip flops she’s wearing are neon pink. Not something she’d pick if she had a choice but they were in her closet when she first moved in with Slade and she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Not after – Beast Boy just…He betrayed my trust.”

“Dear girl, I know this.”

“Isn’t there a different way for me to get intel on them? I could spy on them from a distance.”

Slade sighs, an impatient noise. It’s quiet, like everything else he does, and it raises goosebumps on Terra’s arms. She’s glad for the long sleeves of her pajama shirt, glad that Slade can’t see the visceral reaction to his disappointment, but even then she knows that he’s aware of her reaction, the same way he’s aware of everything that she does. Sometimes she thinks he’s capable of picking out her thoughts and reading them at his leisure.

She keeps her gaze on her feet, on her short toenails, the contrast of the neon pink sandals against her pale skin.

“Terra, you know better than that.” The mattress creaks beneath his weight. She looks up at him, afraid that her face might betray the quickening pace of her heart, the way her stomach sinks, and meets his eye. He’s standing now, far taller than her, especially when she’s sitting.

“You owe me. It’ll be a couple of more months till I send you off to the Titans and in those months I’ll train you on the specifics you require to spy successfully.” He claps his hands behind his back. Terra says nothing. “Unless you have another complaint.”

“No.”

“No what?”

She tucks a wet lock of hair behind her ear. “No, sir.”

“Good girl.”

* * *

 

The following weeks Robin joins her and Slade in the training room, probably per Slade’s request. Terra isn’t sure on the details of Robin’s apprenticeship but she knows enough that Robin is rarely in headquarters – or if he is, he’s probably usually in his room.

The Titans had told her that Robin disappeared. The media speculated wildly on his absence, especially in the wake of the new, younger Robin recently seen trailing Batman in Gotham, a clear contrast to the Titans’ Robin’s taller stature. There were no clues, only theories. Last she heard before working for Slade, the most popular one was that the Joker killed him.

Of course, given her current place of residence she knows that all rumors are false. Robin’s working for Slade, albeit unhappily. She could speculate on the reasons or she could continue on her day, as uninterested in him as he is in her.

Robin, after apologizing for their first training incident, rarely speaks to her. Even with the mask, Terra knows his gaze slides over her in disinterest. Other than when they train together, he never acknowledges her existence. Terra tried, at first. The first few days after Slade forced them together she threw smiles his way. She asked him for advice. She tried small talk. She offered to walk with him in headquarters. All her efforts were met with a quiet grunt or a wave of the hand.

She knows when she’s not wanted and she’s okay with that. Mostly. Her punches and kicks have been a little stronger since they’ve met, but she excuses it as a product of their training.

It’s not like she actually injures him anyways. The only one that seems to ever land a hit on Robin is Slade. The days Slade decides to train Robin with her in the room to observe end with split lips or deep cuts or bruises the size of her fist spreading across his cheek. Three weeks ago Slade hit Robin with his metal bo staff so hard against his side that Terra heard his ribs crack from her seat across the room. Wintergreen said they weren’t broken or even bruised, but Robin’s pained grunt still echoes in her ears.

Slade is gentler with her. His hits are never as rough and he misses when she knows he could’ve landed one on her. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s newer to this than Robin and she’s still building up strength after years of malnutrition or if it’s because she’s a girl, but she never asks.

She still finds herself in the infirmary every evening. Wintergreen is always kind, always gentle, but she grows quieter every time, unsure how to talk about the bruises on her arms or the way Slade’s gaze lingers on her during meals.

When she sees Slade without his mask for the first time, she says nothing and he smiles.

* * *

 

“That’s a bad idea.”

Terra curses and drops the tablet. It clatters to the floor with a loud crack that echoes through the study.

At the door, Robin raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mask lifting along with it. The all black outfit, his hair, the mask all blend into the dark room. Slade would be proud of him for sneaking up on her so well and disappointed in her for her lack of vigilance.

“Close the door!” She picks up the tablet as Robin closes the door. The light from the hall is gone, leaving the study utterly dark save for the lights from the computer screens. They cast a soft white glow, leaving Robin barely illuminated as he walks up to her, stopping close enough to check the tablet’s screen for cracks.

“What are you doing?”

“I was trying to figure out the passcode.” She glares at him. “But now the screen is all cracked. He’s gonna know I was in here.”

“He probably already knows that you’re in here,” he says. He reaches for the tablet and she hands it to him. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he chipped you.”

She blinks. “Did he chip you?”

“He doesn’t need to.” He sets the tablet down on a table. “But probably.”

Robin doesn’t try any passcodes, probably because any more attempts and it would lock itself. Terra stares at it perched innocently next to one of Slade’s many desktops, aware that it probably contained nothing of interest to her, but the thought of trying to go onto any of the actual computers spreads pressure onto her chest that makes it hard to breathe.

“Why were you trying to figure out the passcode?”

Terra shrugs. “Slade’s sending me on some mission eventually. I just….wanted to find out what it was.”

“Well, you’re not gonna find anything here.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Seems like it. Especially since I can’t get into a stupid tablet without breaking the screen.”

He stays quiet at that, frowning at her. The expression is not a new one. In the last few weeks it’s come to be one of the few ones she’s seen. The only other ones she’s familiar with are: his mouth twisted in pain at a particularly rough kick or his glares towards the floor.

“We should get out of here,” he says finally. “Before Slade comes in here and finds us.”

She agrees, leaving the tablet on the table. No point returning it to its previous spot. The large crack on the screen is evidence enough of their presence in the room. Once they’re out of the study, the door closed behind them, they start walking in the general direction of Terra’s room – well, their rooms, she guesses. The hall her room is situated in has three other doors on the same side, though she’s never opened any of them to see the contents.

“What were you doing in there anyways?” she asks once they’re far away enough from the study. She looks over her shoulder – no signs of Slade or Wintergreen, only her and Robin and a long narrow hallway, illuminated by the orange glow of the lava outside the windows.

“I was walking back from the kitchen and I saw you sneaking around.” He shrugs. “I was curious.”

“Oh.” She crosses her arms. Her hand presses against one of the bruises hidden by the long sleeves of her shirt. “Makes sense. I would’ve done the same thing.”

Robin shrugs.

When they reach her room, Robin continues walking two doors down and enters what she assumes is his room. The door shuts behind him with a soft click. Terra lingers at her door, gaze on the silver knob of his, before she walks up to his room and knocks.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment and then the door opens. The corner of Robin’s mask is raised, just like before. He keeps his hand on the doorknob.

He stays silent, waiting for her to talk first. Terra clears her throat and looks down at her shoes.

“Can I talk to you?”

He steps aside, giving her enough room to enter, and once she’s in his room he shuts the door behind him. Just as her room, Terra has the sense that Slade is here, watching. It’s a feeling that never goes away, not after more than two months living with him, learning to anticipate his presence no matter what room she steps into.

The bed is immaculately made. The floor is bare, with no spare shoe in sight, no article of clothing covering the cold linoleum. The only thing indicating any source of life in the room is the desk, covered in files and maps and sheets of loose leaf paper. Terra glances at them for all of a second before she sits on Robin’s bed.

Robin takes a seat at his desk’s chair. The position of the desk against the wall perfectly mirrors hers, just as everything else in the room. It’s unsettlingly militaristic.

“I, um,” she starts, but takes a deep breath. Robin’s stare on her is unusual, even if she started a conversation. “It’s just that – you’ve been here longer than I have. I don’t know by how much, but you clearly have been.”

She stops and looks down at her lap. She wrings her hands.

“Slade’s been – nice to me. Other than training. And even then he’s nicer to me than you. And I was just wondering if it was like that for you too in the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” Robin’s voice is steady, but tense, bowstring taut right before releasing an arrow.

“Sometimes I think that he’s just rougher with you because, well, I’m a girl.” She looks up at him now. Stories about growing up in Markovia, about how differently she was treated from her brothers, are crawling up her throat, ready to come out at the gentlest tug. She swallows them down. “But maybe it’s just because I’m newer? I don’t know. I don’t want him to hurt me as bad.”

Robin’s shoulders went stiff. The edge of a bruise is visible above the collar of his shirt, rising up to his pale neck. It’s a healing yellow, ugly enough that it stands in contrast to his smooth skin.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods.

“Why are you here?” He frowns at her, but it’s different, she thinks. Concerned rather than his usual intolerableness.

Her cheeks burn red. “My powers…they’re hard to control. I, uh, hurt people. In the past. By accident.” She meets his gaze. “Accidents. They were always accidents. And Slade promised me that he could help me control my powers.”

Robin stays silent.

“I just – it’s hard, I knew it would be, but I didn’t think it would be like this, you know? I can take getting beaten up, but he’s so – rough with you. It’s hard to watch.”

He stares at her.

She stands up from her perch on his bed, brushing her hair from her face. “You know what? Never mind. Sorry about this. Sorry. I’m just…bothering you, I guess.”

“No!” Terra starts, eyes wide. Robin clears his throat and looks down at the floor, his cheeks red. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. I – I haven’t really spoken with a lot of people other than you. And Slade. And Wintergreen.”

“Well, me either,” she says.

“Right.” He rubs the back of his neck. It takes a few seconds, but he collects himself; he clears his throat and lets his hands drop to his lap, looking anywhere but at Terra. “I appreciate your concern but you don’t need to worry about me.”

The bruises she sees peeking out of the collar of his shirt, marring his sharp cheeks say otherwise, but she says nothing. Just like she says nothing about the ones hiding under her shirt, the black and purple bruises on her legs, the black eye she’s sported for the past week.

* * *

 

“That hurts!”

“If you stopped flinching it would hurt less,” Robin says. The needle in his hand glints. Terra glares at it, at its sharp point, and the thread connecting it to the skin of her forearm. The cut is long and jagged, curving from the point below her elbow all the way to the middle of her forearm, just on the soft, pale inside. It’s not deep enough that she’ll bleed out, but it hurts, and Robin isn’t exactly gentle as he stitches her up.

Wintergreen is gone. Slade hadn’t said where, only that he’d be back in a week. The infirmary is wrong, somehow, without him. Quieter.

The fluorescent lights buzz over their heads, loud over the sound of their breathing. Terra looks off to the side, away from the long cut on her arm and Robin’s slow, methodical stitching. The pull and tug of skin isn’t unfamiliar, especially since she ran away from home, but she still flinches at the sting of it.

A loose piece of rock cut her after a lapse of control. The boulder Slade had her float in the air for an hour crashed into the wall, exploding on impact. No one had been seriously hurt other than minor scrapes and bruises, but this cut is long enough to warrant some worry.

Slade had offered to stitch her up, of course, and she had been about to say yes when Robin offered.

Part of her wishes she had said no. Slade has always been gentle when taking care of her injuries unlike Robin now.

“ _Fuck_.” She looks at him now, eyebrows raised. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Robin finishes stitching up her arm and snorts. “Clearly.”

She holds her arm to her chest, careful not to touch the wound. “Sure felt like it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my fault. I did the best I could.”

“Considering your best made me feel like dying, why did you offer?”

Robin pauses. His hands are still, gauze still in his grasp, first aid kit open on the counter in front of him. Terra opens her mouth to say something, but he shakes her head before she can.

“You seemed upset.” He shrugs.

“A giant rock exploded and cut me open. I figure most people would be.” She smiles, shrugs a thin shoulder. She’ll have to get rid of this shirt. The long, gray sleeve is ruined. Robin had to cut it off mid-bicep to clean and tend to the wound. Understandable, but it leaves her with less clothing and although Slade filled up her closet with clothes when she moved in, it hurts to ruin a perfectly good shirt. Years on the run have left her with an appreciation for the comforts of a soft, cotton shirt.

“No, I mean – you just…” He continues putting everything away in the first aid kit except for what he used to clean her wound. That stays next to her on the exam table. “You looked like you were about to cry. I just figured you wouldn’t want Slade to see that.”

Slade’s seen her cry. He’s seen her laugh. He’s seen her gasping for breath, hands pressed to her chest, trying to rub feeling back to the spot right above her heart. He’s seen almost every facet of herself, regardless of what she’s comfortable showing others.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

She smiles at Robin. “It’s fine. Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice quiet.

* * *

 

Slade’s quarters are bigger than hers and Robin’s, but his is just as clean and sparse as the latter. The similarity always strikes Terra, just as the way they move fluidly, almost silent, regardless of whether they’re fighting or walking or breathing.

She plays with a loose thread on her shirt as she waits by the door.

After dinner she had been told to report to his room at 1900. Why he used military time instead of standard is beyond her, but she didn’t question him, just ate her dinner at her normal pace (quick and fasts, stuffing herself to the point her stomach bulged out, eating as she always has regardless of where she is: not knowing when her next meal would be).

Now that she’s here, waiting for Slade to appear from one of his connecting rooms, she finds herself tugging at the loose thread of her shirt. The familiar, dull pressure on her chest is back, as if the numbness of her left arm, but she keeps her hands where they are. Slade doesn’t need to see her panicking again, trying to bring back sensation to her chest. Not after the last time when she lost control and he knocked her out before she caused any real damage.

Robin’s out on a mission. She’s not sure where, but she hasn’t seen him in over two days since he patched her up. Her arm still hurts, and she’s careful not to move it too much so she doesn’t tear at the stitches, but she’s better as long as she doesn’t look at it.

Slade enters, a file at hand. The usual black and orange mask is missing. The first time he removed it in her presence Terra stared at him, unable to reconcile the image of his gray hair, the lines around his mouth, that single eyepatch with the figure that first terrified and then rescued her, but it made sense. It still makes sense. Someone as intimidating with a mask as Slade is just as scary without one.

“You’re on time,” he says. He holds up the file. “I have something for you.”

She stares at the file for a second before meeting his eye. “What is it?”

“An assignment.” He meets her at the door. She stops herself from taking a step back. “Think of it as a test before your real mission.”

“But…my powers.” She accepts the manila folder, hands clasping the edges tight. Looking up at Slade, she frowns. “I’m not ready to fight anyone yet.”

“It’s not about your powers, child.” He reaches forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His hand lingers, the tips of his fingers touching her cheek for a moment before drawing back. “It’s about stealth and critical thinking. I’ve taught you enough about that to trust that you won’t need to use your powers.”

Cheeks pink, she stares at the file. The dull pressure on her chest spreads to her neck, right to the point she could feel her heartbeat if she pressed her fingers to it.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll be joining Robin.” He walks away from her now, heading straight to his desk. A map of Jump City is tacked to the wall right above the desk, with red string connecting specific points of it. He sits at his desk, opening different files and leafing through loose sheets of paper. “His location is on the file, as well as the mission briefing. Robin has been instructed to explain more to you once you’re there. I expect you to leave tomorrow at five a.m., understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He turns to look at her still standing by the door, the line of her back straight and tense. She reminds herself to breathe, to take a breath in, hold it for three seconds, and let it out, then repeat. “You’ll do fine, Terra. There’s no need to be concerned. I have full faith in your abilities.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He smiles. It doesn’t sit right on his face. “You’re dismissed.”

“Alright. Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Terra.”

Once the door is shut behind her, Terra takes a step out into the hall and holds the folder to her chest. The entirety of her left arm is numb. The pressure on her chest is heavier. She tells herself to breathe, just breathe, nothing bad will happen as long as she keeps breathing.

She opens the file to glance at the papers inside. The first thing she sees is Robin’s location: Metropolis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally going to be longer, but the way it ended seemed to fit for the first chapter, at least. 
> 
> a few notes before i continue with this fic:  
> \- slade and terra's dynamic will strictly be an unhealthy and creepy father/daughter relationship. there won't be any relationship between them, though, like the show, there will be instances that make you squint and want to say, "what the fuck?"  
> \- there's gonna be a romance between robin and terra but it will be a slow burn. and when i saw slow burn, i mean slooooow. they've barely built up a friendship here, more like an acquaintanceship? it's going to take a while.  
> \- apprentice part ii never happened, but the episodes after that one and up to titan rising are all the same (except for the fact robin isn't there).  
> \- on that note: there will be a lot of triggering content in this fic. it deals with child abuse, anxiety, depression, PTSD, as well as a lot of violence. i don't want to gloss over any of that? the way slade treats these kids is awful and i don't want to minimize or romanticize any of it. 
> 
> anyways, if you've made it this far, thanks so much! feel free to leave any comments with your thoughts!


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metropolis is no different from the last time he stepped foot into the city other than the circumstances in which he’s here. Batman’s not at his side. He can’t see Superman. He can’t go out in public as Dick Grayson, who has publicly been declared missing, or as Robin, who has, coincidentally, also been declared missing.
> 
> He’s sure the theorists in fan forums are going nuts.
> 
> \--  
> metropolis & other missions. robin's apprenticeship is just as morbid as he initially thought it would be.

The tablet’s screen blinks to life across the room.

It’s never a good sign when it does. It usually means a message from Slade, a reminder of his friends, of why he’s here, working for him, stealing and lying and leaving items in random places he’d rather not think too hard about. Slade likes to remind him, often, about the hold he has over him. The nanobots in the Titans’ systems are as mysterious as the day Slade implanted them. Robin knows next to nothing about the way they work other than the fact they do.

It’s enough to make him itch for a fight.

The bruises on his sides protest otherwise. The motel room is dark; the curtains prevent any outside city lights from filtering through. His eyes have adjusted enough to make out the different shapes and outlines of furniture in the room, but the low light of the tablet disrupts the peace.

Not there had been any before. Robin’s been awake for the past twenty-eight hours, incapable of quieting his thoughts long enough to close his eyes and _sleep_.

Metropolis is no different from the last time he stepped foot into the city other than the circumstances in which he’s here. Batman’s not at his side. He can’t see Superman. He can’t go out in public as Dick Grayson, who has publicly been declared missing, or as Robin, who has, coincidentally, also been declared missing.

He’s sure the theorists in fan forums are going nuts. Not that he’s been able to check them with the blocks Slade has put on the Internet on the devices he uses; he’s only able to read and view what Slade sends via email.

The tablet’s screen lights up again. Robin sighs as he gets out of bed, rubbing at his forehead. The mask stays on, even while he put up the pretense of trying to sleep, and the edges of it dig into his skin with discomfort that isn’t entirely unfamiliar to him.

Once he has the tablet at hand, he returns to the bed, opening his email and reading through Slade’s short message:

_Terra on route. Should arrive around 0800. Maintain low profile and debrief her on mission._

He blinks, slow and heavy, at the screen. He’s uncomfortable, he thinks, or maybe uneasy at the idea of working with Terra.

It doesn’t matter. Robin yawns. He locks the tablet’s screen and sets it on the nightstand next to the bed. Once he’s back lying under the covers, he removes the mask, carefully, and sets it under his pillow. He has four hours to sleep. He might as well try.

* * *

 

Even in the early hours of the morning, Terra radiates energy.

She reminds him of a puppy, he recognizes. Easy to disappoint, easy to bounce back. No matter how many times Slade throws her around she smiles and all but skips to Wintergreen to get patched up, only to go back the next morning with an ever present sense of optimism.

Robin leans against the closed door as she drops her bag by the motel room’s dresser and explores the room. She stops by the window, pulling the curtains apart to peek through it, only to huff when she’s met by the blinds.

“Nice view,” she says, turning to look at him.

“We’re not here for the view,” he replies. He moves to sit at the bed, all too aware of the space she’s infringing on. He’s been alone for four days; it’s a luxury he’s not usually afforded ever since he’s come to work for Slade. Terra’s small, but her presence is too noticeable to successfully ignore.

“I _know_.” She rolls her eyes. She leans back against the dresser, crossing her arms. “My thing said you’re supposed to call the shots.”

“Yeah.” Robin scowls. “Because you lack experience.”

“I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “Whatever. What do we now, boss man?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Do you still have your file?”

“Totally! I also told Slade he could shove it up his ass!”

He scowls. Terra grins.

“Good. You destroyed it like he said.” He grabs the tablet off the bed and unlocks it. The background image is the generic one most iPads come with and there aren’t any apps that didn’t already come with it. He opens the pictures and turns the tablet, showing Terra a detailed map of the inside of Lexcorp. “We’re going after the target here.” He points to a room in the 34th floor. “It’s highly secured. You can’t use your powers—”

“—I know that,” she says, rolling her eyes.

He stares at her pointedly. She unfolds her arms, shrugs with her hands splayed.

“Anyways,” he continues, sliding a finger across the screen so a different one shows up, “this is where it gets difficult—”

* * *

 

The first time Slade had him steal, it was from Wayne Enterprises.

Knife twisted in the wound, obviously. The moment he arrived at the building Robin knew the message Slade was sending: _I know who you are. I know who your family is. I know you completely._

It was a simple extraction mission: Slade’s client had been after some files in the archive system. Robin didn’t know the exact details of the file, and he hadn’t cared to find out.  In the end it was a simple mission. No one saw him. He didn’t see anyone. He wasn’t caught. No one got hurt.

* * *

 

The second time Slade had him steal, it was from a drug cartel.

Everything went smoothly until he had his hands on the actual products. He knew how to get them out, but guards came in, the head got involved.

In the end, Robin broke some of their bones. No one died. Slade showed his disappointment when he got back and he spent over a month healing from his sprained ankle.

* * *

 

He stopped counting after.

* * *

 

Terra’s missing.

He realizes too late. The hall is empty sans him and the unconscious body of one of Lex’s guards. The target’s on the other side of the door, supposedly, if he’s to trust Slade’s intel and what he gathered his first few days here (a shy intern, blushing under his attention, allowing him access to her company computer to send an email – not the most difficult task, though the hacking wasn’t as easy).

“Crap,” he says under his breath. He glances down at the unconscious man. There’s already a bump the size of a blueberry on the side of his head. He’s not likely to wake up any time soon, but if someone found him, the entire mission would be jeopardized.   

(He thinks of Slade’s fists, the way his eye narrows, his thumb ghosting over the button that could kill his friends. He thinks of Slade resting a hand on his head and Slade ruffling his hair and Slade leaning towards him so close that he could feel his breath through the small ventilation holes of his mask on his face. His hands shake.)

He crouches down and slides his hands underneath his pits. He holds onto his shoulders and, standing up, drags him towards the room, away from anyone’s sight.

He’ll go after Terra later.

* * *

 

The xenothium in his bag is heavy. The weight of it bumps against his back with every step.

So far, there’s no sight of Terra or where she could’ve gone off to. He almost wishes that Slade _had_ chipped them so he could track her. The longer they remain in the building, the more his fist taps against the side of his leg.

The bathrooms are empty on this floor. So far, so are the meeting rooms. The one lab is, too. The only room left is at the end of the hall. No lights filters from beneath the crack of the door.

The entire building is dark due to an electrical failure that even cut out the emergency lights. In the past twenty minutes, no one has yet to fix it. No one seems in a hurry to, anyways, considering the boss is asleep at home and it’s the middle of the night. His eyes don’t need to adjust to anything, but it still takes him a moment to understand the scene.

Terra: huddled against the wall, her hair a thick curtain around her face. On the floor by her feet: an unconscious body. Except –

When he looks closer, the chest isn’t moving. When he crouches down, pulling off his glove, and his hand hovers above the nose, no breath hits his palm. When he looks at Terra, he sees a dark smudge on her forehead, dripping down to her cheek.

“It isn’t mine,” is all she says.

* * *

 

Robin sits on his bed, hands buried in his hair, elbows digging into his thighs. It’s hard to keep his leg from shaking, but he manages, somehow.

In his time in Gotham, he hadn’t been a stranger to dead bodies. The Joker and Poison Ivy and Scarecrow and every other villain in that city had made sure that almost no one was a stranger to them. But Jump City was softer. He was softer. The villains in Jump were mostly petty and there was rarely any critical amount of blood seen and even rarer: bodies.

Behind the bathroom door, Terra heaves loudly. The moment they got back, she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Robin’s surprised she lasted that long without puking. He was almost sick the moment he realized the body wasn’t breathing.

With a sigh, he gets up, runs a hand through his hair. The door isn’t locked, but he knocks anyways. Terra gags, loud, in response.

She’s bent over the toilet, her thick hair blocking her face from view. She looks up and turns to look at him, wiping at her mouth with the sleeve of her dark shirt. The blood on her face is dry now. He doesn’t know why she hasn’t washed it away.

There’s a lot he means to say like, ‘Should I get you Gatorade?’ or ‘Do you have a hair tie?’ but all he says instead is, “Why?”

She doesn’t look him in the eye.

“Because that was my mission.”

* * *

 

He tries not to think of Starfire a lot. It never helps.

Her hair had been soft in his hands and she had let out a tiny noise when he kissed her the only time he had the guts to. She had cupped his face in her hands and kissed him back and they kissed for hours in her room, on her bed. When he remembers it, it plays like a montage of small sighs and clumsy hands and shy laughter.

That was two weeks before he disappeared to work with Slade. He wonders if she’s moved on in the past few months.

* * *

 

They travel back to base on train together. He wears sunglasses and Terra wears a brown wig and she falls asleep on his shoulder. He doesn’t shrug her away. Her eyes are red and puffy from a night spent crying in the bathroom.

* * *

 

A week passes by.

He trains with Slade and eats meals in his room. Slade pats his back, once, but other than that refrains from physical contact. Robin tries not to read too much into it.

The books in his room are books that he had back at Titans Tower. They aren’t the same ones; they don’t have the pages dog-eared like his and the spines aren’t bent from use and none of the coffee stains, but they had been here the first night Slade brought him here. Another message.

He reads and he trains and he eats and he sleeps. He passes Terra’s room whenever he leaves his room, but the door is always closed and the light is always off.

It’s…quieter when she’s not around.

* * *

 

“He sent me out on another mission,” Terra tells him, plopping down on the corner of his bed.

Robin blinks at her. The action is useless considering the mask on his face.

She bounces, slightly, on her spot and her hands clutch at the edge of the mattress. She doesn’t look at him, instead staring at the wall. He stares at that wall a lot too. He still hasn’t found anything interesting except daydreams where he punches Slade in the face and he actually stays down.

“Did you kill someone again?” He turns the page. He doubts he’ll be able to keep reading with her in the room – even when she’s…somber, he guesses, her presence is hard to ignore. It’s all that yellow hair. It’s too bright.

“Yeah.”  She turns to look at him. He’s sitting with his back is against the wall, his legs stretched out across the bed. If he moved his foot, he’d be able to nudge her lower back.

He scowls and looks down at his book. “You don’t have to do what Slade tells you.”

“Except I owe him.”

He snorts.

“I _do_ ,” she says.

“Helping you with your powers doesn’t mean you owe him other people’s _lives_ ,” he says. His mask crinkles slightly with his glare, his eyebrows furrowing. “Wasn’t the point of controlling your powers to not kill any more people?”

“These aren’t good people. They’re drug dealers and pimps and – and – and _murderers_.”

“Because killing murderers doesn’t make you a murderer!”

“No!” She slams her hands against the mattress and stands up.  “You don’t get it, Robin. You _don’t_.”

He throws his book on the bed and twists so that his legs hang off the side, his palms pressing into the mattress. “Really? Then explain it to me, Terra! Seriously, tell me what’s going on in there that could possibly justify this?”

“I don’t owe you shit!” She throws her arms out, hands splayed. Her voice wavers. “I don’t owe you or anyone any explanations.”

“Then why bother coming here to talk to me?” He points to the door. “You don’t have to be here. You can leave. You can leave my room. You can leave this base. You can _leave_.”

“Fuck you.”

She slams the door behind her.

* * *

 

Slade has him kill the second in command of a drug cartel. They sell coke, mostly to high school and college kids.

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to. But his friends –

* * *

 

The dim, orange lighting from the hall hits his face when the door opens. He looks up and catches sight of Terra’s slim silhouette.

Slade had mentioned something about her being a runaway. Something about illegal experimentation. He hadn’t really elaborated more on the subject so Robin doesn’t remember much.

She doesn’t move into the room. She lingers by the door, her hand clenched around the doorknob. Robin stays lying in bed, squinting at her figure, suddenly glad that he always sleeps with a mask here.

“I just—” He can’t see her face, but he can imagine her nose wrinkling the way it does when she can’t figure out what to say. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”

He doesn’t say anything.

She nods. “Right. Well. That’s it. Bye.”

The door closes and he still doesn’t sleep.

* * *

 

“Are you and Terra fighting?”

Robin tips his spoon so his oatmeal drips back into the bowl.

“We’d have to be talking to be fighting.”

Slade hums. “And here I thought that mission would make you two bond.”

“Is that why you recruited her? So I’d have a friend?”

“Of course not.” Slade never takes off his mask in front of him, even during breakfast. He drinks his smoothie with a straw that goes through one of the ventilation holes in his mask. It’d be funny if Robin weren’t so miserable. He takes a sip from his straw now.

Robin stares. Slade keeps sipping.

“Well?”

Slade sets down his cup. “Well what? I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Robin rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why he does. It’s not like anyone ever sees the gesture with his mask covering it up.

* * *

 

He walks into the training room one morning and catches Slade crouched in front of a sitting Terra. Her face is pink and her dirt covered cheeks are tear stained. There’s a crater in the middle of the room.

She wipes at a tear. Slade brushes her hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear.

Robin steps out of the room and tries not to think about it.

* * *

 

Terra’s walls are just as bare as his, but the floor is littered with shoes and clothes. He quickly glances away from a bra near the door and instead takes in the unmade bed, the messy desk. Terra plops down onto the bed and stares at her nails while he lingers at the door, unsure of where to go.

“Are you gonna keep standing there, bird boy?”

He settles for leaning against her desk, his hands gripping the edge.

“Has he…” He stares down at the floor. “Has he made you kill more people?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He hasn’t sent me on another mission.” She shrugs.

He scowls.

“He, uh, is sending me out on another in a few weeks. But this time I’ll probably be gone for months.”

“Wait, what?” He pushes himself up to stand straighter.

“I can’t tell you.” She grabs at a pillow and picks at the pillow sheet. It’s white, like his. He’s not sure why he’s surprised at how similar their rooms are except for the mess.

“I just –” He drums his fingers against the underside of the desk. “I don’t know. He’s never sent me out that long and I’ve been here months longer than you.”

She keeps picking at the sheet.

“Terra?”

“We aren’t friends, right?” This time she does look up and meet his gaze.

Robin shrugs. “I don’t know.”

She hums.

Maybe it was too calloused, but any other response would’ve been dishonest. Friends doesn’t seem anywhere close to what they are. It’s been months, but it’s not like they’ve gotten along, really. Robin gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

“But we’re the only ones really here for each other in this place, I guess,” he says. “Slade isn’t my friend.”

“Sometimes he feels like my friend. Other times –” Her eyebrows draw together. “It’s weird. He’s weird. But he’s…nice to me.”

He thinks of Slade tucking that lock of hair behind her ear. He thinks of the tears Terra wiped away from her face and the dirt on her cheeks, almost ever present. The closest equivalent he can dredge up is Slade ruffling his hair and even then it’s more of a reminder that he can do what he wants and Robin can’t do anything about it.

The second in command of the drug cartel had begged for his life and Robin hadn’t looked after he drove the knife into the man’s neck. There hadn’t been any mercy. Slade wouldn’t have been pleased.

“He isn’t. To me, at least.”

“I know.” Her voice is small. Everything about Terra is so small. She’s smaller than Beast Boy. Robin’s fingers would easily touch if he encircled them around her wrist. He wonders if he ever looks that small.

“How about this,” she starts, letting the pillow rest on her lap, “we share something about ourselves. Get to know each other. Y’know, actually be friends.”

Robin stares.

“What? You come up with something better. It’s not like I can talk to Slade about everything.”

“Fine. Fine.” He raises his hands. He crosses the short distance and sits down at the end of the bed, legs crossed. Terra scoots more towards the middle of the bed and mirrors his position except she grabs her ankles.

“Okay, I’ll go first.” She purses her lips. “I, uh, lived in the desert for a month.”

“Wait, seriously? What about food? Water?”

“I ate a lot of random animals, sometimes. They weren’t good or anything, but I was starving.” She scratches behind her ear. “Sometimes I found water. Other times I found desert towns and stole a shit ton of water bottles. Had to ration that out for a while.” She shrugs. “Your turn.”

“I lived in Gotham most of my life.”

“And?”

“I can’t really tell you more.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why not?”

“Secret identity.”

“Oh, _come on_.”

The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. “Sorry.”

“You could literally tell me any random ass story like I did!”

“Like what?” He raises an eyebrow. His mask pulls at his skin as it follows the gesture.

“Like – What was your first mission with Batman like? Or why’d you pick Robin as an alias? Or what was the craziest shit you ever saw happen in Gotham?”

His shoulders sag, slightly. Not noticeable enough for Terra to comment, but enough that Robin makes himself straighten up again.

“Robin was a nickname my mom gave me.”

She blinks at him, all owl-like. She’s all doe-eyed and small and her hair is so _yellow_. He doesn’t get it.

“It’s…cute,” she says, slowly, as if considering the word.

Robin shrugs.

“Is Terra your actual name?” he asks.

She smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

* * *

 

At night, when he actually sleeps, he dreams about the dried blood on his clothes. There had been a lot of blood once he pulled out the knife. No weapon left, no real case.

The man wheezed his final breath. Robin hadn’t looked. He stared off at a wall and thought of Titans Tower. The five of them had been together for a year – It felt longer, like they knew each other their entire lives. And yet he didn’t know beyond what they told them: their basic origins, their superhero alias (except for Raven and Starfire, whose names were their aliases), what foods each one of them liked best, and what TV shows they liked to binge watch, and what video games got them the most riled up.

Starfire liked playing Mega Monkeys with Beast Boy. She didn’t understand much about it, but her smile was wide and bright.

Cyborg had promised to tinker with Robin’s motorcycle a few days before he went missing. He doubted he ever got to it. Maybe Beast Boy had it now, like he used to joke about.

When the man stopped breathing, Robin stood up and left.

* * *

 

Terra grabs his hand, once, when they pass by Slade’s room. It’s a surprise that he doesn’t stop in his tracks, but Terra keeps walking, her fingers squeezing his hand tight. He looks at her, at the tight line of her mouth, her downcast eyes.

Once they’re near their rooms, she lets go and walks right into hers. Robin stares at her shut door for a moment and flexes his hand, as if burning. He goes into his room without another glance at her door.

* * *

 

“You aren’t still trying to figure out how to turn them off, are you?”

Robin stares forward at the four giant screens. None of the vitals have changed in the six months he’s been working for Slade except for when some of them have gotten the occasional cold or some minor injury. He hasn’t panicked at any point. Nothing has been related to the bots in their systems.

“I doubt I’d figure it out.” He keeps his arms crossed. Slade stands next to him, mirroring his position staring at the screens.

“Right you are.” Slade ruffles his hair before stepping out of the room.

Robin stares at his back, fixing his hair.

* * *

 

“I met your friends before Slade, y’know,” she says.

Robin looks up from his book. Across the room, Terra sits with her back to him, her hair over her shoulder as she slowly braids it. He frowns at the back of her neck.

“You never mentioned them.” He sets his book down on her bed and sits so that his feet are flat on the ground.

She looks over her shoulder, her fingers still working her hair into a braid. “I guess I forgot to.”

“And you remembered now.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Starfire wanted to braid my hair, once. This reminded me of her.”

There’s a pang in his chest entirely familiar in the aftermath of hearing Starfire’s name. He rubs at the back of his neck.

“How were they?”

“Sad.” She stares right at him. Effortlessly, she ties off the end of her braid and tosses it over her shoulder so that it rests against her back. “They mentioned you a few times. They said you went missing. Cyborg said Batman was looking for you.”

Terra arrived four months ago and he had been working for Slade two months before that. Most missing persons’ cases lose momentum after a few months, but he doubts Bruce would stop looking for him. That and Dick Grayson, as the ward of Bruce Wayne, would be a high profile case. They wouldn’t stop looking for him after a couple of months in order to avoid media backlash.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s not going back any time soon.

“Oh,” he says for lack of anything else. Terra stares at him, her arm resting on the back of the chair, her eyebrows raised. Her room is still impossibly messy, a contrast to his seemingly barely lived in one. It’s comforting, in a way. “Uh, what else?”

She shrugs. “I was only with them for a little more than a day. Hm. Beast Boy has a pet larva? I don’t know if that’s new or not --”

“ _What._ ” Robin’s surprised his eyes haven’t bulged out. “Pet larva?”

“It was actually pretty cute.”

He gapes at her for a moment before a surprised chuckle escapes him. The sound is -- off, just a bit, but the smile on Terra’s face that follows is...nice.

“That’s ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head. “And...exactly something that he’d do. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Do you miss them?”

Robin doesn’t hesitate. “All the time.”

Terra bites her lip. She seems to consider something before she squares her shoulders..

“I have to tell you something. And you’re going to be mad at me.”

“I’m usually mad at you.”

She shakes her head. “This is different.”

He sits up straighter, eyebrows raised. His mask pulls at his skin. It’s quiet for a moment as Terra seems to gather her nerves. Her gaze flickers down to his leg and he realizes that he’s been shaking it this entire time. He forces it to stop, continues staring at her.

“Slade is...sending me to the Titans.” Terra starts to sound far away, like a TV playing in another room. “He wants me to get intel on them. Like, personal intel. He doesn’t want me to hurt them and he’s not going to hurt them so you don’t have to worry--”

Robin stands up. She stops talking and stares at him, worrying her lip between her teeth.

He doesn’t say anything. He slams the door shut behind him and stands in the corridor, eyes on the floor, his chest heaving.

There aren’t any cameras in their rooms, but there are in the corridors. He caught the glinting surface of the lens in his first week at this base. It never really bothered him till now.

When he steps into his room, he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath.

* * *

 

The faint knock on his door wakes him up. Robin stays in bed, the blanket pulled up to his chin, and glares faintly at it. There’s another knock, just the slightest bit louder. He doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is soft and muffled through the door.

He clenches his eyes shut.

* * *

 

The following month plays out a lot like the first couple of weeks Terra was here: they train together with Slade, talk when they need to, and spend their evenings apart. Terra talks to him, sometimes, and he grunts out his answers. Slade sends him out on petty missions and Robin completes them almost effortlessly and he spends his night staring up at his ceiling, itching for a fight.

He steps into the training room one morning and Terra is nowhere to be seen. Slade waits for him, two bo staffs at hand, and throws one to him. He catches it, scowling.

“It’ll just be you and me for a while, Robin.” Slade gets into stance. After crossing his way to the center of the room, Robin follows, already tense.  

“What about Terra?”

Slade swings the bo towards Robin’s head and he blocks it with his own.

“Doing her job.”

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Robin wakes up to a newspaper slid beneath the crack of his door. It takes him a moment to recognize what it is, but when he does, he picks it up and scans over the headline.

**NEW TEEN TITAN, TERRA, HELPS SAVE JUMP CITY BANK.**

There’s a picture of Terra doubled over with laughter at something Beast Boy said -- or at Beast Boy. His back is to the camera, though his arms are up in the air, and Raven stands off to the side, rolling her eyes. Starfire and Cyborg aren’t in the shot. The article states that they were giving their statements to the police. Terra hadn’t given a quote to the press because, according to Cyborg, she’s still too new to the them and they didn’t want to overwhelm her. They were glad to have extra help on the team. And, no, they were not replacing Robin.

The article mentions Robin’s disappearance and gives a public hotline for anyone that might have information on his whereabouts. It states that the Titans have not given up and remained hopeful that their leader would return.

He wonders how people haven’t made the connection between Robin and Dick Grayson’s disappearances. The police aren’t stupid. Bruce must’ve made up some sort of excuse for where Dick had been staying after he left Gotham.

With a scowl, he crumples the paper in his hands and throws it in the wastebasket.


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 1:32 am, i have class in a few hours, and this is probably riddled with proofreading mistakes that i'll clean up.........eventually..............

“You’re doing that wrong.”

Terra’s eyebrows draw together. She frowns down at the mixing bowl.

“Is there actually a wrong way to make brownies?”

Apparently there is, judging by the look on Beast Boy’s face. He steps towards her and nudges the bowl towards him. She hands him the mixing spoon, careful not to touch fingers.

“You’re mixing it all wrong,” he tells her and starts to mix it himself, though it doesn’t look any different than what she had been doing.

The kitchen is a flour covered mess. There’s flour in Beast Boy’s hair and brown goo in hers, she’s pretty sure. When Raven walked in half an hour ago, she had taken a look at them before sighing and floating her way to the dining table. She’s been hiding behind some leather bound novel since then.

Terra chances a look at Raven now and sees nothing different; just the top of Raven’s violet colored hair and the thick black book. It’s fairly well into midmorning now, late enough that Cyborg and Starfire ought to be awake, but they either ate before her and Beast Boy made it into the kitchen or are off doing who knows what.

She should know what they’re up to. She has to know what they’re up to.

“Were you even mixing this? It’s all lumpy!”

“I was distracted by your boyish good looks, obviously.”

The blush on his face is…less satisfying than she had expected. Terra grins and hops onto the counter, close enough for him to touch.

 _The boy likes you_ , Slade had told her. And it’s obvious, really, with the blushes and the smiles and the almost literal hearts in his eyes, but it doesn’t make any fun. _Play along, it’ll make it easier for him to open up and tell you personal things_.

Beast Boy grins and tilts the bowl towards her. She raises an eyebrow at the now smooth brownie mix.

“See? This is what it’s supposed to look like.”

“Well, not everyone’s a baking expert, man.”

“And he’s definitely not one,” Raven says. Terra throws her head back and laughs as Beast Boy turns around and points a finger at the still reading Raven, rambling about his recipes and skills and all other nonsense.

_Make them like you._

Raven sets down her book and meets Terra’s eyes. She smiles, close lipped and small, and Terra prays she can’t sense the way panic surges through her limbs.

* * *

 

The garage is large and bright and the T-car draws the center of attention, shining from its spot in the center of the room. Cyborg’s feet poke out from beneath it.

There’s a red motorcycle with a flashy R symbol resting in a corner. It’s propped up and red and shiny, as if recently painted. Terra doesn’t touch it, though her hands itch to.

She makes her way to the car and crouches down, hands on her knees.

“Cyborg?”

There’s a loud clang as metal hits metal. Cyborg slides out from beneath the car, a smudge of oil dark against his cheek. They’re a little too close, but Cyborg doesn’t do much to distance them, sitting up and rubbing at his skin with the heel of his palm.

“What’s up?”

Terra taps her fingers nervously against her bony knees.

“Well…I was just wondering if you could teach me how to fix the car and stuff. Or how it works.” She shrugs. “I know I won’t ever drive it or anything, but it seems like a good idea so that, like, if you can’t one of us can, y’know?”

Cyborg’s tall and large and the white-and-blue metal of his body had been intimidating, at first, but his smile is bright and never _wrong_ (like Slade’s smile, his lips warped in something bad, never good even when genuine). When he grins at her now, her shoulders relax.

“Yeah, of course.” He reaches over and ruffles her hair (like Slade) and she smiles. “Gotta be honest: didn’t think you’d have an interest in cars.”

“What can I say? I’m a complicated gal.”

* * *

 

That night, she emails Slade what the car runs on, its inner workings, the exact engine model. She doesn’t understand much of it, but she proofreads it once, twice, enough that it seems clear enough for anyone to make sense of it.

* * *

 

She meets Batman, once.

She doesn’t say anything besides a squeaky hello before Beast Boy grabs her by the arm and tugs her to the side. She can’t stop staring. At his side is the new Robin, shorter and younger than the one she knows. His hair isn’t spiked and his uniform is the same color but he’s wearing shorts instead of the green pants she had seen her Robin wear on the news.

Batman talks to Cyborg and Starfire for a bit before they leave the ops room to discuss things somewhere else. Distantly, she knows she ought to follow them and try to eavesdrop, but Beast Boy and the new Robin start talking, gestures wild, before rushing to the sofa.

Beast Boy’s head pops over the back of the sofa.

“Hey, Terra, wanna play Mega Monkeys with us? Rob here thinks he can beat my high score.”

“Ha! I _know_ I can.”

She looks at the door and then at Beast Boy with a smile. “Kid’s got no idea what he’s in for.”

* * *

 

Having friends is…weird.

_(No, not friends. They aren’t her friends.)_

Starfire’s never bored of her. She drags Terra to the mall, to the movies, to the pier, anywhere in the city to make sure she’s having as much fun as she can in the city. She’s made it her personal goal to turn Jump into Terra’s home.

Raven joins in, sometimes. After they helped save the Tower together, Raven’s been…as nice as Raven can be, but they aren’t exactly close. Terra reads a book that Raven loans her, but she only gets halfway through it before she gives up. She makes sure to let Raven know that she tried, though. It doesn’t do much, but as long as Raven isn’t suspicious Terra can let out a sigh of relief.

Tonight, Starfire sits cross legged on the floor with Terra, clutching at her hand. Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth. Terra leans forward and tries to sit still as Starfire paints her nails a bright red. Starfire’s nails are a soft purple, lighter than her usual uniform.

“Hey, Starfire?”

“Yes?” She continues onto Terra’s left ring finger. Her grip is gentle.

“Why was Batman here?”

This time, Starfire does pause. She looks up at Terra and bites her lip.

“Oh. He was here to discuss Robin’s disappearance. The previous Robin, not the current one.”

“So…you guys work together on that?”

Starfire nods. “Yes. Batman helps update our technology so that we can better track down Robin’s last known locations and movements before his disappearance. It is smarter to have both our parties search for him.”

 _Red X_ , Terra doesn’t say. Slade wrote the name on the file he gave her before her mission.

“Oh.”

“It is…saddening, what has occurred with Robin.” Starfire finishes Terra’s pinkie nail and lets go of her hand. She closes the nail polish bottle. “But we must do what we can to find him.”

“You don’t think he’s dead?”

Starfire shakes her head. “No, I do not. I cannot believe that.”

 _He’s with Slade and he misses you and he’s sad, he’s so, so sad_ , she almost says, but bites her tongue. Terra blows at her nails.

“I hope he’s not dead too.”

* * *

 

A loud groan emits from the couch. Across the table, Raven rolls her eyes and bites into her sandwich. Terra looks over her shoulder, gnawing at the inside of her cheek just as another groan cuts through the air.

“He’s being such an idiot,” Raven mutters into her food.

Terra leaves her seat, and her food, to find Beast Boy laying on the sofa, a pillow over his face, arm slung dramatically over its brightly colored cushion. She nudges the pillow and it only moves an inch.

“You okay?”

“No.” Beast Boy sighs, all melodrama. Terra looks up to catch Raven rolling her eyes again. Cyborg shakes his head, biting into his food. “ _My arm._ The agony I’m in is immeasurable!”

“Oh, big word. Ten points to Beast Boy.”

Beast Boy raises his good arm to flick Raven off. Starfire, from her spot in the kitchen, blinks at the gesture. She meets Terra’s eyes and she shakes her head.

“C’mon, Beast Boy, don’t take it out on Raven just ‘cause you’re a sore loser.” Cyborg finishes off the last bite of his sandwich. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “Not anyone’s fault ‘cept your own that Plasmus got you good.”

“Hey! I didn’t see it coming!” He sits up and cradles his bad arm. Raven could heal it, but she muttered something earlier about not having enough energy to do so yet. Terra didn’t question it too much.  

“Yeah, we all know what you were looking at instead.”

Cyborg smirks at Raven, who hides a smile as she continues eating. Terra’s face flushes red and she doesn’t look at Beast Boy as she sits at the opposite end of the couch, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Beast Boy tries to stammer something, but all that comes out is incoherent, embarrassed noises. Starfire giggles.

“Please, it is not nice to poke the fun at Beast Boy.” Whatever she’s been doing at the kitchen seems finished now. Starfire grins and pulls out a tray from the oven. “I have prepared a get well dessert!”

Beast Boy’s face turns impossibly green. Terra turns in her seat, arms folded on the back of the sofa, and watches as Starfire brings the concoction to them. It’s a dark purple, with bubbles forming and popping on the surface. When Starfire pokes it with a spoon, steam hisses out.

“What is it?” Terra sits properly and leans forward, head tilted.

“Whatever it is, I’m not too hungry, Star.” Beast Boy stands up, smiling apologetically. Starfire’s expression falls, slightly, but she smiles at Beast Boy and nods. As Beast Boy heads towards the door, Cyborg joins him, ruffling his hair. Raven’s disappeared at some point, leaving just Starfire and Terra in the room.

Terra stares at the goop.

“You got a spoon?”

Starfire’s smile brightens.

* * *

 

Every week, she made a new email address. Something unremarkable, with no known ties to her. Slade’s emails always appeared as spam mail. When she logs onto the new account, sure enough there’s already a message from a store she’s never been to telling her about a twenty percent sale. She clicks on it.

Her arm is numb. She tries not to think hard on it.

_Not pleased with progress. Rendezvous at 2300 in the enclosed location. Do not be late._

The attached filed contained different codes. She’s still struggling to understand the ones she just learnt a week ago (and it helps, really, that Cyborg is willing to teach her basic coding), but these seem…up to her standards, she thinks.

She kneads her bicep but it remains numb. She gives up on it and pulls on a different shirt before opening her window and willing a rock to float up to meet her.

* * *

 

The warehouse she finds herself in is old, decrepit. A poorly lit area with minimal human activity, it seems fitting as a rendezvous spot, though if anyone were around, it’d make the sight of anyone all the more suspicious.

Terra takes a deep breath before stepping in.

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Up on one of the metal beams, there’s a figure swinging its legs in the air.

She squints.

“Robin?”

The beams are low enough for Robin to climb down without Terra’s heart crawling up her throat. She walks towards him, hands in the pocket of her large hoodie, and frowns at the sight of his pale face.

It’s been more than two months since she last saw him. And he hadn’t been exactly talking to her then.

She gnaws at the inside of her cheek.

Robin’s feet touch the ground.

“Where’s Slade?” she asks.

“Out of town.” Robin runs a hand through his hair. “Told me to come for him.”

“ _Oookay_.” Terra digs the heel of a boot into the ground. Neither of them move. She’s not sure if she should. “But wasn’t he, I dunno, supposed to give me more instructions or whatever? He gave me a bunch of coding and I thought he’d explain it to me.”

Robin scowls. He moves towards one of the walls and reaches down for a messenger bag. He pulls a laptop out and gestures for her to come over. She does, worrying at her lip this time.

“He wants me to explain how to hack into Cyborg’s system.”

“– That’s stupid. I told him that Cyborg changes it every month now.”

Robin’s fingers pause. His hand hovers over the keyboard and the screen illuminates his face in a bright, glaring white. His skin is almost translucent.

“Cyborg’s never changed it before.”

“Yeah, well, he does now. Something about some weirdo hacking into his system while we were both gone.”

 _“Fuck.”_ Robin shuts the laptop, grabs the bag, and stuffs it inside. He slings the strap on his shoulder. “He’s – he’s not going to be happy.”

“Is he ever?”

“You don’t get it—”

“Isn’t this good news? For you? You didn’t want me to go on this mission to begin with. Now you don’t have to worry about me succeeding.”

“Didn’t you say that he didn’t want to hurt them? That you aren’t going to hurt them?”

Terra brushes her hair away from her face. “Well, yeah. Slade just wants information—”

“Do you know what’ll happen if Slade doesn’t get what he wants?” He takes a step towards her. “He’ll kill them, Terra. Do you know that?”

“No, he wouldn’t do that—”

“What do you think those probes are for?”

“Shut up.” She shoulders him out of the way, hands back in her hoodie’s pocket, and heads towards the entrance. “You’re being paranoid. You’ve always been so fucking paranoid—”

“And you’re being naïve if you think he isn’t just using you!”

“Of course he’s using me!” She turns around and narrows her eyes at him. “And I’m using him! He helps me control my powers and I’ll do whatever the fuck he wants. It’s a win-win, _Dick_.”

Robin freezes; he’s rooted to his spot, the slits of his mask wide, eerily white.

“—How?”

“Slade knows. He knows everything about you, about me. And he told me who you are before I left, okay?” She tucks her hair behind her ears. Her face is flushed red. She doesn’t like fighting with Robin, doesn’t like it when he’s upset. She misses when they were kinda becoming friends, when he smiled at her and looked a little less sad, a little less angry. She’s angry too. At the world. At her dad. At herself, mostly.

Robin stares at her. She stares at him.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“You say that a lot.”

“I have a lot to apologize for.” She stuffs her hands back into the pocket and clenches them into fists against the fabric. “Slade isn’t going to hurt anyone, okay? Not as long as I do what he says. I’ll get the information he wants and they’ll be okay.”

“Will you?”

She smiles. “Always am.”

* * *

 

The Tower is always quiet at night. During the day it’d be hard to mistake the building as anything other than the residence of a group of teenagers; there’s always loud chatter, the clanking of dishes and utensils from the kitchen as someone (usually Starfire) experimented with whatever food, bickering, and the unmistakable noises that could only ever be video games or TV. At night, once everyone retreats to their rooms, it’s…eerie.

Cyborg’s security system is strong, but flawed. Terra can leave her window the slightest bit open and she can sneak out. She told Slade as much. He had been pleased, but still wanted every detail of the way the Tower worked.

It’s exhausting.

Hands in the pocket of a large hoodie she stole from Beast Boy, she wanders through the hall. The top floor holds their bedrooms and the (sole) bathroom as well as the ops room in the center. There’s not much room for else on this floor and it’s not hard to imagine that a bunch of teenagers designed the building. Down another floor are a bunch of rooms she hasn’t really explored, though Beast Boy pointed them out when he gave her the grand tour.

There’s light filtering beneath the crack of one door. Terra tilts her head and slows her steps as she comes closer.

“— everything here doesn’t point to anything.” Cyborg’s voice is mildly muffled through the door and the wall, but it’s unmistakably his. “No clues, no files on what he could’ve last been working on.”

“That’s because he never let us know what he was up to, Cyborg,” Raven’s voice follows. “You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

Whatever Cyborg says next is too soft to hear through the door. Terra frowns down at the light; at the faint shadows of their feet.

“—You have to stop trying to be him. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

There’s a faint chuckle. “Yeah, well, you try taking over as leader.”

“Not a chance of that happening.”

The conversation turns quiet, muffled by the door and the walls, inaudible to Terra’s hearing except for a few words. She frowns at the door and moves on.

* * *

 

“So…”

Raven’s eyebrow twitches. Terra pretends not to notice.

“Empath, right?”

“Yes,” Raven says. She sits by the window in the lotus position, floating inches off the ground. Terra sits next to her, grounded, frowning up at her levitating form.

“How does that work? Like, I know you can, like, levitate stuff and teleport, but…”

Raven sighs.

“I can feel emotions. If they’re close and strong enough, I can feel almost anyone’s.”

Her fingers dig into her knees. “Oh. So…kinda like mind-reading?”

“No.” Raven does look at her now, eyebrows raised the slightest bit. _Oh god, she can feel the beat of panic, of fear, can’t she—_ “I can enter minds but—”

“You can?” Terra’s voice cracks, and her face is flushed, burning, really, and Raven knows, doesn’t she? She knows—

“I don’t do it often.” She levels a look at Terra. “It’s invasive. And takes a lot of energy.”

Terra’s going to be sick.

“Are you okay?”

She shakes her head. “I just…ate some of Star’s food earlier. It must’ve hit me now.”

* * *

 

A deep purple bruise marks the length of Robin’s cheekbone. It’s recent.

Terra tries not to stare as she hands him the USB filled with updates. When he reaches for it, she grips his hand, briefly, and squeezes his fingers before letting go.

His face softens, slightly.

They don’t say anything.

* * *

 

She kisses Beast Boy.

He tastes like fizzy soda and that pizza topping he likes with green peppers and tofu. It was okay when she tried it, it definitely wasn’t her favorite, but it tastes a little funny from his mouth. She’s sure her breath isn’t any better considering her half of the pizza had extra anchovies with a side of garlic sauce.

It’s not romantic. Their noses mash and their teeth clink, but Beast Boy blushes an interesting shade of red/green when they pull away.

They hold hands, after, while watching some reruns of a cartoon he likes.

Her fingers don’t seem to fit right between the spaces of his.

* * *

 

_“You didn’t have to kill him just because Slade told you to,” Robin said. The fluffy, white hotel towel was stained red in his hand. Terra kept her gaze fixated on the bright white of the toilet lid._

_“I don’t want to talk about it.” She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch of the towel as he wiped away the blood on her forehead. The touch was soft, delicate. He didn’t scrub at it. It was more than she deserved, probably._

_“I do.”_

_“Too bad,” she said._

_Her hair stuck to her sweaty skin. Her stomach was empty and hollow. The last time she ate was around lunch. Some diner near the motel, with Robin across the table from her, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he bit into his burger._

_She took a deep breath._

_Robin wiped at her cheek with his thumb. She flinched away from his touch, eyes snapping open._

_He frowned at her._

_“Get out,” she said._

_He hesitated and seemed to consider her words, almost as if ready to argue, but she nudged at his foot with her own sock clad one._

_“Please.”_

_The door clicked shut behind him. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and let out a shuddering breath._

* * *

 

The base isn’t any different than the last time she was here. Terra glances at the screens with the Titans vitals and continues out the room and into the hall leading to Slade’s study. She passes by her old bedroom, pauses outside of Robin’s, but there’s no light coming from beneath the crack of the door.

She knocks on Slade’s door. It opens (undramatically, though she’s not sure why she thinks it’d be like the curtains pulling open) and the first thing she sees it the black of his eye patch.

He smiles at her. He steps aside to let her into the room, but with the way he opened the door there’s only enough space for her to get through and have to brush past him.

In the middle of the room, Terra shifts her weight from foot to foot, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans.

“In all this time, I haven’t asked how you’ve been faring with those people,” Slade starts. He shuts the door behind him.

“Those…people, sir?”

“People. Teenagers.” He shakes his head. “Regardless, unsavory company. I am sorry for subjecting you to their presence.”

She swallows, thickly. “They…aren’t all bad. They’re nice to me.”

“An act of pity.” He’s in front of her now, brushing her hair away from her eyes, tilting her chin up with the careful press of a finger to meet his gaze. Terra’s skin itches. “You’ve forgiven them too easily. But I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a much better person than they are.”

 _Not than Starfire_ , she thinks, but her tongue is thick in her mouth. She stares at his dark eye. His hand moves away from her chin, a finger tracing her cheekbone this time. Her cheek burns.

“Surely you understand I don’t want you to be hurt again, don’t you?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

The curve of his smile is wrong, but he’s smiling at her. She’s done something right. That’s what counts.

She smiles back.

* * *

 

Robin rounds the corner just as Terra clicks the door shut behind her.

He’s not wearing his mask.

They stare at each other. The bruise on his face has faded into an ugly, healing yellow. His left eye is dark with it.

Terra’s face burns.

His gaze flickers to the door behind her. She lets go of the handle as if burnt.

“—He wanted an update,” she says.

He scowls.

“I should be back soon, I think. I’m hoping. Nothing’s gone wrong, and they’re all okay, but they miss you.” And it’s nothing she hasn’t told Slade already, but Robin’s gotta know, right? That they miss him. That Starfire stares down at her hands when his name is brought up. That Cyborg’s fixed his bike for him. That Batman is still looking and that the other Robin is helping as much as he can.

He looks away from her and shakes his head, continuing down the hall. Terra’s frozen in her spot, heart thudding in her throat, but just as he’s nearing the hall that’ll inevitably lead to their rooms, she runs up to catch him. She grabs his wrist.

“Robin—”

He tugs his hand free, shaking his head.

She lets him walk away.

* * *

 

_Both of the men she murdered begged for their lives. She was smaller than both of them; at nearly a foot under, it wasn’t easy to disable them, but she was quick and Slade taught her how to utilize that._

_A rock whittled sharp enough to easily fly through their skulls and it was done. Quick and simple both times._

_She threw up after. Both times._

* * *

 

“There were accidents. Because of my powers,” she says. She’s laying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed, the ends of her hair brushing the floor. Besides her, Beast Boy’s in the same position. He turns his head to look at her.

“I mean, I kinda figured. With how freaked out you were when we met.”

She swallows the bad taste in her mouth.

“People died, Beast Boy.”

He reaches for one of her hands resting on her stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

She closes her eyes. “Me too.”

* * *

 

Cyborg types fast at the keyboard. He stares forward at the screen with not a single glance at the keys. At the door, Terra hesitates before stepping further into the room.

“Cyborg?”

The room’s littered with newspapers, manila folders. On the wall, there’s a map and pictures and notes all connected with red string, similar to the one in Slade’s room. She glances away.

Cyborg pauses and looks over his shoulder at her, eyebrows furrowed. She smiles, close lipped and unsure, but the expression softens when he grins at her.

“You want another lesson?”

She shakes her head. “No, uh, I wanted to ask you something. But…I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

This time Cyborg turns his seat around, back facing the large monitor. On screen there’s some sort of city wide surveillance system running.

She scratches at a scab from a pimple on her cheek with her nail.

“Well, it’s just that, I dunno, you guys haven’t told me much about Robin. I mean, from before he was missing. And I wanna help, really, but it doesn’t feel real, y’know?”

He scowls and rubs at the back of his neck. “What do you wanna know?”

“Just…” _If he was ever a happier person; if Slade really broke him and turned him mean and angry and bitter; if she’d turn like that if she stayed long enough._ “What kind of leader he was. What kind of friend he was. He’s special to you guys. So I’m just curious, is all.”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Cyborg says, “He’s one of my best friends. Infuriating little brat, gotta tell you. No one made me angrier than him.”

Terra nods, but then stops herself. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek.

He shrugs. “He’s smart, y’know. Just one of those people that always seemed to know what to do. Real type A, but always willing to goof off when he wasn’t fixated on something.”

“So…not like Batman?”

Cyborg grins.

“Nah. Brat has a sense of humor. I’m pretty sure Batman was born without one.”

She can’t imagine Robin joking around, but it’s easy to recall the surprised laugh that burst out of his mouth like he could barely remember the action. He always laughed like it’d been months since the last one when she managed to drag one out, and she never doubted that that was the case.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she leans against the wall and frowns at the screen.

“What were you doing before I asked you this stuff?”

“Oh.” He swivels the seat and stares up at the monitor. The S symbol is still bouncing across random points, never stopping, like a good air hockey game. “It’s a system me and Robin created a while back. It’s meant to recognize any crime that fits Slade’s M.O.”

Her mouth goes dry.

“That’s cool.” She comes to stand next to his seat. “How’s it work?”

If there’s a pang in her chest at the sight of Cyborg’s excited grin, she ignores it.

* * *

 

The cave they meet at is one she stayed at, briefly, before she met the Titans or Slade or Robin. She stares at the mouth of it. Her throat feels dry, but maybe that’s just the memory of the sensation.

Robin sits on a fairly flat boulder. The bruise is almost entirely gone, his skin back to its almost translucent pallor. He grabs a pebble and rolls it in his palm.

“Markovia’s a small country,” he says.

Her gaze flickers to his.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a princess.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the ward to a multi-billionaire,” she says.

He smiles, but it’s warped and _wrong_. “First impressions are usually wrong, I guess.”

It’s quiet, after that. She joins him on the rock, close enough to feel the warmth of his thigh near hers. She grabs the pebble from his hand and throws it across the air. Her eyes flash yellow. It skips once, twice, mid-air before she lets it fall to the ground.

“Beast Boy likes me,” she tells him.

Robin turns to look at her, frowning. Her lungs take in air wrong, she thinks. “You don’t like him back.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” He shrugs.

A mosquito lands on her arm. She smacks it and wipes away its remains on the rock. “You and Starfire were a thing.”

“Does it matter?”

She hesitates. Before she can change her mind, she rests her hand on top of his.

“They miss you. You know that, right?”

Robin lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I miss them too.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to my friend kay!!! she pitched the ideas for the scenes with terra eavesdropping on raven and cyborg and terra and raven discussing empathy and also generally encouraged me to keep writing bc she's the mvp. 
> 
> i'll try to update the next chapter sooner next time but (finger guns) i'm doing better this time it only took 2 months to get the motivation to write opposed to the 4 months it took last time. 
> 
> also!! i'm really bad at replying to comments but i appreciate each and every one of them and they make my day!! you're all the sweetest!! thank you!!


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